


the sound of a bad idea

by CrystallizedInsomniac



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Human, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Other, Rating May Change, Slow To Update, the only one who has his shit together is lucifer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25061947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrystallizedInsomniac/pseuds/CrystallizedInsomniac
Summary: How convenient that they had forgotten to mention in their ad that all seven of them are alphas.or; MC learns very quickly that being an omega in a house full of alphas is just very stressful and not at all like those—horriblycliche, might you add—porn videos and erotica novels make it out to be.
Relationships: Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Everyone
Comments: 46
Kudos: 175





	the sound of a bad idea

**Author's Note:**

> warnings:  
> \- there will be references to sexual content because it's abo and mc being an omega means heats, and the brothers being alphas means ruts. as the tags imply, there might be a rating change in the future.  
> \- there won't be a consistent update schedule because i'm going to be writing this as i go and chapter updates will probably fluctuate in word-count but i'll try to keep them below 3k. this is my fun little project where my main goal is to: a) make lucifer's life a living hell, b) write a slice of life/domestic au where mc somehow ends up being pampered by seven alphas and c) i just wanted to write a fic set in new york city.
> 
> as always, not beta read--i'm probably gonna come back tomorrow to edit this again.

_House of Luctus._

There is, ridiculously enough, a plaque sitting at the side of the brownstone's steps with those words engraved in gold. When you steal a glance at the door, further up the steps, you see the numbers of the brownstone building sitting against a dark door situated right in the middle of the building. 

You look at your phone again, lip worried between your teeth as you confirm for the -nth time that this is the place, that in the span of the train ride and walking from the station to the building the address didn't magically up and change. Your map app tells you that you're in the right place, small red dot signalling that the brownstone in front of you is the exact location you had input into the search bar when you were given the address earlier during your work break. 

There isn't anything out of the ordinary about the brownstone—looks just like the other ones that surround it. Sidewalk and steps clean, high windows on the outside that would give a pretty nice view to both the inside of the house and the outside street should the curtains be pulled back to reveal one-another.

The only difference you can tell is that among the ten similar looking buildings all close to one another on this side of the street, only this one seems to not be a shared building. Which is where the hesitation begins.

See—you're no stranger to scams on craigslist. After a while it becomes easier to weed out _actual_ listings that have to do with whatever you're looking for—in your case a place to stay—and those that are shady as fuck. Which is why when you found someone had posted an ad saying that they were looking for another person to rent out a room in their seven-bedroom _abode—_ and who the fuck even talks like that anymore?!—and had mentioned that rent was cheap, your mind jumped to three consecutive thoughts;

One; _seven_ bedrooms. Which means eight people sharing a single apartment, eight _strangers_ sharing an apartment in the city. You've done it before, the sharing with a bunch of strangers thing, hard not to have at some point if you're living in the city, and that had ended horribly. Probably, maybe, _absolutely_ because putting a bunch of omegas together in a shady building with an even shadier landlord is just a recipe for disaster. So, you know, you've done it once. You'd like to keep it at that number. But then—

Two; the person you had been texting—Mammon—had been pretty clear about the fact that rent would be cheap on your end. The house was actually theirs, and because their little sister had apparently moved out to live with her fiance her room had been left empty for a couple of months, and rent was cheap. Rent was _really_ cheap. Which is where the hesitation had begun to take place, and you asked questions obviously—what did they do for work? what were their hours like? when can i see the place? and then, finally—

Three; it's in the Upper West Side. Your workplace is literally a fifteen minute walk from here. It's an ideal place, in a wealthy neighborhood, and you _know_ how hard it is to even get the chance to stumble upon a gem like this. So you know, when Mammon had texted you the address and you noticed how close it was you decided, well there's no point in _not_ seeing the place. You were looking to move out anyways.

The single thought of not having to take the A train from Far Rockaway was honestly the selling point. 

You take another breath to calm your beating heart. The air is cool and refreshing against your skin, the weather a nice temperature as the season begins to change from summer to fall. Behind you, you hear and feel the sound of people walking around, headed home. There's the laughter of children coming home from their activities, the smell in the air is comfortable and only tinged slightly by the bitterness that is your hesitation.

Rubbing the back of your neck and licking your lips. You steal another glance at the door, and think, _maybe I should go up. It'll look weird if I'm just standing here staring._

You shoot Mammon another text, and begin to walk up the steps. When you're finally in front of the door, you strain to hear if there's any sound from inside but can't even manage to hear a single peep. Which is, again, weird, because seven people with different schedules means that _someone_ has to be home. But then you look up, and realize that maybe they're on the upper floor of the condo. It is three stories tall, after-all.

_> ring the bell, i got caught up at work but luci should be there. _

_Ah_ , you think bitterly. But it's—it's _fine._ You were gonna meet all of them at some point you guess. You ring the doorbell, and then wait.

And wait.

And then wait a little bit more.

_> > I don't think there's anyone home. _

_> just ring again. _

And really, you only have yourself to blame if this ends up being a horrible prank. Who in their right mind would think that a _craigslist_ ad out of all the things, would be legit for an extremely cheap room in this area of Manhattan? You're about to resign yourself to simply leaving before someone inside—not Mammon or any of his brothers for that fact—comes out and screams at you for bothering them when you hear footsteps from the inside.

Then the door opens.

Your nose catches on to the smell before your eyes register the image in front of you. Cold, _winter_ snow assaults your senses with such potency that you don't even register the small whine that escapes your throat. The smell is overpowering, but not unpleasant, and it only registers a second later in your mind that it's smells of _alpha_ and then the door is opening, revealing a man with pale skin and dark eyes, short hair slicked back on one side with a carefully framed bang that ends a pretty grey at the tips.

Your eyes end up zeroing in not on these details, but on the fact that he's got the sleeves of his dress shirt pulled back up revealing his forearms, the top three buttons of it undone revealing pale, creamy skin, and then—his hands. Big hands, one holding onto a wine glass out of all the things, half full. The red on his nails a brighter color to the dark wine on the glass. 

You open your mouth, and find nothing to say. The man standing in front of you, raises a single eyebrow, eyes unrelenting as he waits for you to speak. Because _of course_ , you have the impression that you just interrupted his down-time, and the one that needs to explain their presence here is you, not him.

So throwing caution to the wind, you take a discreet whiff of his scent again—oh, his brows furrowed, so maybe not so discreet—just to gauge his mood. Still very much smelling like alpha—very heady, you're getting a bit distracted, really, and you've never been one to give in to your base instincts but sometimes, it just happens and he's _handsome_ , ridiculously so.

"Luci?" You begin, and the man quirks an eyebrow at you, his gaze sharpens in annoyance and you have to very carefully stand your ground. Ignore that _stupid_ impulse inside of you that is going _there you go, it hasn't been a minute and you've already managed to make an alpha annoyed_ and wants you to present your neck, lower your gaze. 

"And who are you?" The man asks, sounding particularly bored, if not annoyed—maybe because of the name? He doesn't look like a 'Luci', fuck. Maybe you should've asked Mammon for his name.

As if reading your thoughts, he says; "Lucifer. Only my brothers call me Luci."

Ah.

You give him your name, and then wave your phone vaguely. "I was told by Mammon that you'd be able to show me the house? I'm ah... the person interested in the room you guys are looking to rent.

Lucifer's eyes shine then, and a small amused smile flickers on his face. He steps a bit forward, eyes you from head to toe. "Mammon explained everything, I presume?"

You blink, and then shrug. "Yeah."

"And you don't mind?" He sounds intrigued, just on the side of surprised, and you have to try very hard to not let your slight bitterness at the implication of his words not seep through your voice when you answer;

"Not at all. Mind if I take a look inside?" 

_You don't mind_? God, you knew wealthy people had it different, but something about the fact that he even has to ask that, like they're not the ones looking to fill in a room that they could easily leave empty makes you a bit annoyed. Sure, you've never shared a place with seven other people before—but it probably won't be any different than any of your other places, and the place looks big enough that you could maybe make it with seeing all of them probably four times a week in total. You've done it before anyways.

Lucifer nods, and steps to the side. When you walk past him, it's easy to ignore his eyes burning holes into your back because you're quite frankly stupefied by the sight before you. You're distantly aware of the door locking behind you, and then Lucifer begins to walk inside the house. He makes a motion for you to follow.

"As stated in the ad, the house is made up of three floors, each floor hosting two separate full-sized bathrooms and a living-room in each one of them. Here in the first floor we have the main living-room," Lucifer states as he leads you around and you follow him. The house is elegantly decorated, if oddly devoid of family pictures, instead, there's a lot of very expensive-looking art and decorations. You watch out of the corner of your eye as Lucifer keeps on calmly drinking his wine, clearly intent on not letting your visit interrupt his plans.

The main living room is _huge_ , and it fails to compute inside of your head how that's possible. It's bigger than any of the apartments you've ever lived in, and _sure—_ seven people live in here, makes sense that it'd be a big living-room. But the simple fact that there's three floors, and there's apparently two more living-rooms makes you feel like this is a joke. It _has_ to be, but when you look at Lucifer you see nothing but mere interest in his gaze.

"Further down the hall we also have the only dining room," Lucifer states, and takes another sip of his drink. He's silent for a beat before he narrows his eyes, like he's been thinking over this since he first laid eyes on you. "Excuse me for the bold question, but are you sure you want to rent the room?"

You scoff, but give him a small smile to show that you're not being rude. "If I weren't sure, I wouldn't be here."

Lucifer hums, "but I meant you as an omega."

Oh.

You consider his statement for a second, mulling over how you're going to answer this. You've lived with an alpha before, but she was already bonded to a pretty omega that spent too much time at the apartment and ate your food, so technically rooming with another alpha wouldn't prove too awkward. Obviously, ground-rules would need to be talked about, but you doubt it'd be anything new for Lucifer. After-all, he has seven siblings, and if there's something you know is that there is no way there's another alpha in the house.

Call it old-fashioned thinking, but even nowadays it's rare to see packs where more than two alphas are in the same living arrangements. 

You're not exactly looking for _that_ with your potential new roommates, but the matter of the fact is that having an alpha in the building would certainly help ward off some of the most tasteless comments thrown your way if you at least smelled like an alpha. For how progressive things have gotten in recent years, there's still a lot of prejudice against omegas, and you're no stranger to these things. Lucifer's pheromones are potent—and you know it's because he's in the comfort of his own home, no need to keep his pheromones in check here like he'd need to out in the world—enough that even throughout the house everything smells strongly of alpha.

It's not an unpleasant smell, but it also means that you can't detect anything around that says beta, or even omega. 

"I've lived with alphas before. Of course, we'd need to talk details, but I'm okay with it."

Lucifer looks at you like he can't quite believe you, but if he has any other complaints he doesn't voice them, opting to take your answer for what it is. 

In the end, there's not a lot of talk—Lucifer leads you to one of the three kitchens, in the process placing his now empty cup of wine in the sink, before leading you to the back portion of the house where three bedrooms sit. He proceeds to point at each of these—His, Mammon's and Asmodeus' rooms are on the first floor—before the two of you move to the second floor. Much like the ground floor, this one has a smaller-sized living room, a beautiful piano that catches your eyes immediately—Lucifer inquires as to whether you now how to play it, and when you tell him that you've practiced before, there's something like satisfaction in the air that hits your nostrils and you preen a little under his gaze—and then the other three sets of rooms. He explains that this is where Satan, Leviathan, and the twins—Belphegor and Beelzebub—rooms are.

"They share a room?" You ask, as he leads you further up the stairs to the third floor. 

Lucifer nods, "Always have."

And you don't say anything to that because, well, they have the extra room obviously, but if they want to keep sharing that's their problem. You're here to take advantage of a cheap room in a gorgeous house.

The last floor, to your surprise, has a fairly decent living-room that is extremely well lit because one of the walls are made up of glass. The afternoon sun casts a soft warm glow to it, and when Lucifer motions to the only bedroom door that you see to the side, he seems a bit melancholic when he says;

"This would be of course, your floor. There's a small kitchen in a separate room, and of course your personal bathroom." Lucifer moves to open one of the doors to the side. You peer inside.

It's big, bigger than any of your previous rooms. The room is devoid of anything except for a vanity, and a desk with a chair that matches the rest of the house. When you step inside, you pick up a new scent right away, just barely there drowning under all of the _alpha_ in the air that seems to come from Lucifer alone. You turn around to look at him, propped against the door.

The afternoon sun casts a golden halo around him, and you're suddenly struck with the realization that he's gorgeous. Breathtakingly so. Which is why, you're going to be blaming your dumb instincts when you struggle to find the words to say something to him. The two of you stare at each other for a long period of time. 

Lucifer breaks the silence, and the way he regards you is serious enough that you know he's expecting a straight-forward answer from you.

"We've already gone over the information you sent us," He starts, "and we have no problem in opening our home to you."

"Right."

"However," and yeah, there it is. You brace yourself for the other shoe to drop in, for him to tell you that you won't be able to live here because of some dumb reason. And God, you're not above begging, especially not after seeing this place. The thought of having to go back to your small over-priced apartment, commuting for more than hour to get to Manhattan, sharing your apartment with your questionable roommate—it's enough to make a single comment pop into mind, something you heard one of your friends say once. _You're lucky to have been born an omega, just flash a little neck and you'll get anyone under your thumb._

What you don't realize is that you're loudly projecting your anxieties, and you miss the way Lucifer's posture stiffens. The way he suddenly seems to not be able to stay where he is right now, standing awkwardly. It only lasts for a second, he clears his throat.

"We need to be absolutely sure that you're okay with sharing with the seven of us." Lucifer begins, and his face hardens in annoyance that isn't directed at you, "our situation is a bit peculiar, and you are not the first person to have come see the apartment. I'm quite frankly surprised you even agreed in the first place."

You frown, "I guess not a lot of people would be okay with seven."

Lucifer nods.

"But I am," you say. You _really_ are, you can already see this place becoming home. Especially since Lucifer makes it clear that this would be your area and no one would come to annoy you—whether this is because of your second-gender, or because everyone will treat you like a stranger, you're not sure but don't particularly care for either. "If you'd let me, of course."

Lucifer gives you a smile, makes your heart skip a beat.

"When's the earliest you can move in?"

Your excitement shows in your smile, in the way your whole face brightens up. It shows in the way your relief fills the room, something soft and warm that laps at Lucifer's senses and makes his shoulders droop a little, less on guard and more reflective of your own emotions. 

Later, you will come to realize something.

Coming out of the bathroom, fresh from a shower, mind clear and smelling of lavender instead of _frost_ , you pick up your phone and scroll through your conversation with Mammon. Something about the way Lucifer kept asking you questions kept on rubbing you strangely, but at the time it was almost difficult to even question it.

You shudder, a bit annoyed. You hate that, hate it when alphas do that stupid thing with their pheromones that makes you want to heel. 

_> > Hey, quick question. I forgot to ask._

You didn't get to meet his other brothers, as they were all away today given that it's a Friday night and Lucifer confided in you that this is the only time during the week that he gets to himself. So you're not expecting Mammon to answer you any time soon, so when the clock hits 11:34 P.M, you shoot him another message.

_> > I was wondering if you could give me the phone number to the other omega (s) of the house? _

If there's one thing you _don't_ need is for your cycle to be messed up. You wait for him twenty minutes, and then decide to simply reply in the morning. 

You receive a reply at around 2:30 A.M. The notification wakes you up, and you spend a ridiculously long amount of time trying to read what your screen says when the light from your phone almost blinded you.

> _omega?_

_> didn't luci tell you??_

_> we're all alphas. _

**Author's Note:**

> on another note, i just wanted to say thank you to everyone that has read, commented, and subscribed to my stories. i didn't expect to find so many people subscribing to both my stories _and_ myself! i've been going through an awful time (mentally at least) the last two months and writing has been really hard for me. i heavily considered orphaning all of my works and just disappearing quietly into the fandom at some point,,,, honestly kinda feel that way still,,,, but i keep starting so many obey me wips, that i really doubt it'll happen. im losing my train of thought---but basically, re-reading through all of the nice comments you guys have left me is honestly one of the few things that make my days a bit brighter. so thank you. really.


End file.
